


Slow Burning Heat

by gay_babies_in_space



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: First Time, Fluff and Smut, Friendship/Love, M/M, hot gay superheroes, literally half of this is smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2015-05-18
Packaged: 2018-03-31 03:28:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3962728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gay_babies_in_space/pseuds/gay_babies_in_space
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Contrary to popular belief, running is not Pietro's favourite past time. Sure, he likes it well enough, and it certainly comes in handy now that he's an official Avenger and all that, but sometimes Pietro just wants to stop. The Avengers, amazing as they are, are all restless, itching for a fight, all fast-paced and chaotic within themselves. Clint is the only one who understands Pietro's need for calm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slow Burning Heat

Contrary to popular belief, running is not Pietro's favourite past time. Sure, he likes it well enough, and it certainly comes in handy now that he's an official Avenger and all that, but sometimes Pietro just wants to _stop_. Everyone at Avengers HQ is rushed, always trying to get a hundred things done in half the time needed, and it's exhausting even for Pietro. He thinks that maybe it's because of the chaos of his younger years, living in the riotous hell of Sokovia.

            Wanda has adapted to this new life differently, he knows. She's embraced the speed of it all. It's her way of escaping the memories of days trapped under the rubble of their home, waiting and waiting and waiting for the bomb to go off. She still gets uncomfortable around Stark and doesn't quite trust him yet. It's not her fault, but it does make team relations a bit more complicated. Stark, to everyone's shock, has been as accommodating as possible, letting her pop in and out of his brain as often as she likes without complaint. Wanda uses the speed to forget her memories of forced stillness, but Pietro has all the speed he could possibly want.

            It's not that Pietro isn't thankful for his powers, because he is, really. He knew what he was getting into when he and Wanda volunteered for those experiments. It's just that sometimes the speed reminds him of too much and he wants nothing more than to stop and be still.

            The Avengers, amazing as they are, are all fighters. They're all restless, itching for a fight, all fast-paced and chaotic within themselves. Stark can go days without sleep; Cap's always off somewhere looking for some soldier that no one likes to talk about; Thor's a walking wall of muscle and energy; Doctor Banner is just... well. Even Natasha, one of the most human of them all, is a fighter, craving the thrill and adrenaline of hand-to-hand combat. Clint is the only one who understands Pietro's need for calm.

            Clint, as a whole, was a surprise. The archer - so much more than just a bow and arrows - sticks out like a sore thumb in the team. He seems disjointed and disconnected from everyone else. He and Natasha have a history, that's clear, but she's been so focused on Doctor Banner since his return that Clint's been sidelined a bit. Pietro knows the feeling.

           He's always been so used to having Wanda there that now she's found a new life (and Vision - what the hell, he's a robot??) he's having trouble adjusting. Clint's wary of Wanda. He trusts her with his life, just not with his mind. Pietro, who almost always has a connection with Wanda in the back of his mind, doesn't understand at first. Clint explains it one day, when they're lounging around on the couch eating chips and watching a DVD of one of the old Captain America films for a laugh. He tells the story of the Avengers' first mission together, about the attack of the Chitauri and the defeat of Loki. Clint's part to play in the story - though entirely unintentional and unwilling - has haunted him ever since, and his comment from their second encounter makes more sense now. Yes, he's done the mind control thing before, and Pietro can understand why he wouldn't want to do it again.

            So Clint, who is endlessly patient and surprisingly understand and _relaxed,_ becomes one of Pietro's closest friends. No one expects it, especially not Pietro, but he thinks that maybe Clint just feels like he owes Pietro something. Honestly, he does, but Pietro was thinking along the lines of a new video game rather than friendship. He's not complaining, though. Clint's a lot more fun than he originally thought, and he gets a childish thrill out of trying to hit Pietro with a cushion every time he calls him 'old man'. They spend most of their down time on the PlayStation, or on one of Stark's new toys, and the team have started pairing them together on missions. They have a dynamic that the others don't have, and it gets a lot done. Pietro realises he spends more time with Clint than he does with Wanda now, but the revelation doesn't cause a tug of sadness as he expected. Instead, he feels lighter. Of course he loves Wanda more than life itself, but it's good for them to spend time apart for once. Wanda has Vision and Natasha, with whom she striked up an unexpected friendship, while Pietro has Clint.

            It's great.

            Except that this revelation leads to Pietro analysing the developing relationship between his sister and Vision, where he can't help but notice disturbing similarities between himself and Clint. It's nothing major - it's not like he and Clint walk around HQ holding hands like Wanda and Vision. It's the small things, like the way one leans towards the other, and they way they can sense each other when they walk in the room. It's the way Wanda smiles whenever she looks at Vision, and now that Pietro's aware of it, he knows he does it when Clint walks in the room. It's really rather simple.

            Pietro hates it.

            He can't stop analysing their every encounter, and seeing as they spend most of their time together, Pietro's brain is working non-stop. It's so much and so _fast_ and he doesn't know how to handle it. How do you decipher the emotions of a goddamn spy? It's damn near impossible, and Pietro thinks that he'll go crazy trying.

                        One morning, however, he's cornered by Natasha in the kitchen before he's had his first coffee of the day. He's barely awake, so he isn't really aware of everything Natasha says to him at the time, but later he paraphrases it to "hurt him and I'll kill you." It's not exactly a confirmation, but it's enough for Pietro, who runs straight to Clint's room. He's thankful for his speed in this instant, because he knows that he'll chicken out if he doesn't do this quick.

            He knocks on the door to Clint's room as fast as possible (which is pretty damn fast), but when he doesn't open up quick enough he picks the lock and throws the door open, slamming it shut behind him. He leans against the door, chest heaving as he stares at Clint. The other man is standing in his underwear, bow and arrows in hand, looking - quite frankly - ridiculous. His hair sticks up in odd angles, and the sheet from his bed is tangled around his feet. Pietro can't help but smile at the sight of him, but the nerves wipe the smile of his face quickly. Clint seems to sense that this isn't the normal early-morning emergency wake-up call, and he swings the bow to the side just as the arrow is released. It pierces the door next to Pietro's head, but he doesn't flinch. He can't register anything, yet he registers everything at once. He doesn't quite know what to do with himself now. He had been so sure when he had ran over here, ready to do whatever it takes. Now, though, he's so unsure, so uncertain, and he doesn't know what to say, what to think, what to do, and what if Clint doesn't feel the same way and what if he does and what if -

            All thoughts fly out the window when he feels Clint's hand pressing gently against his face. He's peering up at Pietro, a concerned frown joining the other creases on his face. Pietro hadn't even noticed him approach, and it's unnerving. The warmth from Clint's hand burns into his cheek and he's so close, so very close and everything's hot and close and his heart is racing so fast. There's so much flesh on show that it's hard for him to focus and he swallows loudly. Clint tracks the movement of his Adam's apple as it bobs and he feels his cheeks flush red. He doesn't remember hi pulse ever going this fast before, not even at his fasting running pace. Clint whispers his name, almost in question, but even the hushed whisper seems to loud in the frozen silence. The moment stretches out like an elastic band and then -

            Snaps.

            Clint leans forward and up, capturing Pietro's lips in a kiss. He keeps it slow, no matter how often Pietro tries to speed things up. The one time he truly _wants_ speed and he's denied it. It's glorious and frustrating and he groans against Clint's mouth. Callused hands settle on his hips, thumbs brushing against the skin under his shirt and suddenly Pietro can breathe again. He doesn't want this to be fast, he realises. He wants this to be slow, so he can savour every minute of it. There's a part of him that's terrified that Clint won't want more than this and if that's true then he wants to remember everything.

            It doesn't feel like Clint's just looking for a quick fuck though, not as he breaks away from the kiss and nuzzles softly against Pietro's neck. He releases a shaky breath and laughs softly when it makes the older man's hair flutter. Pietro loops his arms over Clint's shoulders, caressing his bare back and feeling the muscles shift beneath his palms. The archer feathers soft kisses against the skin of his neck and sucks slightly on his Adam's apple. Pietro's fingers dig into the Clint's back as he groans, and he thanks whatever god may exist for this moment. One hand slides up into blond hair and scrapes against his skull. Clint's hands, still under his shirt, move up and up, taking the shirt with them until he can pull it over his head and let it drop to the floor. Pietro puts a hand under Clint's chin and brings him back for a kiss, and then two, and then two more. Clint walks them backwards towards the bed in the centre of the room and spins them around, sitting Pietro on the bed while he positions himself between the younger man's legs.

He kneels on the floor, and Pietro spares a quick thought to thank Stark for the ridiculously soft carpets before he feels fingers against the waistband of his trousers. Clint looks up at him, asking permission, and he's terrified, so terrified, but he nods anyway because he wants this so much it hurts. Clint has his trousers around his ankles before he's even aware of it, and as he slowly pull each leg over his feet, Pietro thinks he may die from this, from Clint. He knows that Clint knows he's never done this before, and the fact that he seems to be trying to make this as good and easy as possible for him makes a warm feeling flare up in Pietro's chest that threatens to suffocate him. Clint tugs on his underwear next, and if this is how he'll die, then it'll be a damn good way to go, he thinks. He leans back on his arms to support him, but they collapse the second Clint wraps his lips around the head of his cock, and he falls back onto the bed, grabbing at the sheets.

            Heat pools in his belly as Clint continues to suck on the head, while a hot hand wraps around the base. He can't hide his moans as he gets harder and harder, but judging from Clint's contented hum - which makes Pietro sob - he doesn't want him to. One of Clint's hands pushes down on his hip to stop him from thrusting up as Clint takes more and more into his mouth and his cock nudges the back of his throat. And _of course_ Clint doesn't have a gag reflex, of course not, and Pietro cries out at every suck, at every lick to the vein on the underside. He's going to come, and soon, so he reluctantly pulls Clint off him and moves himself further up the bed so he's resting against the headboard. Clint follows him, crawling up the bed and up Pietro's body, and his mouth goes dry.

            "That all you got, old man?"

            Clint's eyes narrow before he lunges forward, straddling Pietro's waist, and grabs him in a bruising kiss. There is nothing slow or sweet about this now, and they rut against each other. Clint still has his boxers on, and Pietro decides that he does not want them there anymore, thank you very much, so he rips them down either side and throws the tattered remains onto the floor. They groan in unison as Clint's cock is freed, hard and flushed red with precum pooling at the tip. Pietro reaches out a shaking hand and smears the liquid along Clint's cock before wrapping his hand fully around it. It's hot and heavy and _perfect,_ and Pietro is terrified about doing something wrong or not being good enough, but Clint groans and drops his sweaty forehead onto Pietro's shoulder. He lines up their cocks and thrusts, and _oh_ this is so much better than when he's on his own with only his right hand for company, because this is heat and sweat and rough kisses and _Clint bloody Barton_ and Pietro feels like he's flying. He kisses along Clint's chest and sucks on a nipple, and Clint's thrusts falter, his breathing stutters, so Pietro does it again and again until Clint pulls his head up and pushes their lips together. It's fast and erratic and _brilliant_ , and this is the best kind of speed, where the quick pace is so contrasting to the slow heat that builds up in waves, higher and higher and higher until it crashes down on him and his release is splattered all up Clint's chest and abdomen. He works at Clint, tossing him off and sucking bruises into his neck before he twists his wrist on an upward stroke and Clint squirts into his hand with a low moan.

            Pietro wipes his hand on the sheets before settling them both on Clint's hips. They're both panting and tired, but Pietro's fucking exuberant in the knowledge that this has finally, _finally_ , happened. He pushes away his doubts and fears about their relationship _post-now_ , and concentrates on slowing his rapid pulse. He's tired, but he forces himself to keep his eyes open when Clint nudges his sweaty and Pietro's. They sit like that for a long time, Clint on Pietro's lap, foreheads pressed together, exchanging quick, gentle pecks, come drying on their bodies. It soothes Pietro's fear and when they finally lie down in the tangled sheets to sleep the rest of the day away, he's confident that Clint feels the same way as him. He's calm for once, content in a way that he can only be when he's with Clint.

            His heart nearly stops when he hears Clint's next words whispered against his throat, accompanied by an innocent kiss.

            "Next time I'll let you fuck me."

**Author's Note:**

> okay, so this is the rather pitiful product of my first ever attempt at writing smut. it's not the best, but y'know, practise makes perfect, so if you have any requests let me know!  
> Comments are cookies and cookies are unhealthy but make me feel great anyone, so leave me a comment, people!!  
> requests and prompts and shit over at my tumblr, ourcaptainhomo https://www.tumblr.com/blog/ourcaptainhomo


End file.
